Cravings
by Carolina Nadeau
Summary: At four months pregnant, Marian Paroo Hill is beginning to contend with cravings – and Harold is determined to satisfy every one of them, no matter where or when they strike.


_So... this took me a long time. Wow. I can fairly confidently say that I will be doing much better with writing in the near future, though! Really!  
_

 _Like all of my stories, this fits within a single continuity but also stands on its own perfectly fine_ – _however_ , _some direct references are made specifically to events in_ A Day Off _and_ Make Believe _, so if you haven't read those stories, you might want to. *shrug*_

xxx

Harold Hill was fast asleep – or at least, he thought he had been – when he heard his wife's voice drift up from beside him.

"Harold, do we have any blueberries?" Marian murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.

In his barely-conscious state, Harold thought that he might have imagined the nonsensical inquiry, but summoned what small amount of energy he could to let her know he was listening just in case she really _was_ asking him something. The best he could manage on such short notice was a mumbled, inarticulate "wha?"

"Blueberries." Her voice was clearer this time, though her meaning still baffled him. "Do we have any in the house, do you think?"

He opened his eyes reluctantly, expecting them to be assailed by morning sunshine for which he did not feel remotely ready – but it was every bit as pitch black as when he'd had them closed. In the darkness, he instinctively reached out for Marian, letting his hand rest gently on her arm when he found it. He didn't even know where to begin in answering her, both because her question was so inexplicable and because he didn't feel awake enough to form recognizable words or thoughts.

"It's the middle of the night, isn't it?" Harold asked after taking a moment to gather his wits a bit more. "You need – blueberries – now?"

He heard and felt her shift beside him, snuggling a little closer. "I don't _need_ them, no. I was just wondering."

"Well – I don't know. I don't think so."

"Oh, that's all right," said Marian, yawning a little and burrowing her head against her pillow.

Although he still could not comprehend why on earth his wife had woken him with such a question in the small hours, Harold was relieved that nothing was wrong. What's more, he was feeling immensely grateful that it wasn't actually time to wake up for work, nor any time close to it. He was so close to slumber already that, after a minute or so of waiting to make sure Marian had nothing else to say, he slipped easily back into a contented repose.

xxx

All morning long, Harold was bothered by the nagging sensation that he was forgetting to do something. He checked and rechecked his schedule and sifted through the contents of his briefcase several times, but everything seemed to be in order. As he thought about it more, however, he could have sworn that this was something to do with Marian, not the business of the Emporium. Was there some chore he was supposed to have performed at home? He hated the idea of having his wife miffed at him because he'd been thoughtless, and he certainly didn't want to be responsible for creating extra work for her. But they had washed dishes together after breakfast, he knew that, and he also remembered bringing all of his clothes down to the laundry room after taking his bath the night before, and he truly didn't remember there being anything else that needed to be taken care of recently. Maybe he ought to run by the house at lunchtime and figure it out...

It wasn't until Harold had buried himself deeply in the mindless task of rearranging the display of popular sheet music to accommodate the new titles that he'd received in yesterday's shipment that the thought finally burst into his mind. All at once, he distinctly remembered that Marian had asked him about blueberries in the middle of the night. He was still as mystified by that episode as he had been while it was happening, but he didn't have to think twice about making sure his beloved wife had whatever she wanted or needed, regardless of the reason, especially as she was currently four months pregnant. Instead of heading home at lunchtime, then, he was getting her those blueberries.

As soon as his lunch hour arrived, Harold set out for the grocery store, bringing his lunch along with him in the hopes that he could take advantage of the opportunity to have a little impromptu picnic with Marian. The weather was surprisingly mild and temperate for August, but the blueberries in Dunlop's grocery store were as robust and appetizing as one would expect for the season, and Harold carefully selected a small carton that he was certain contained the freshest and brightest berries.

Thus satisfied, the music professor headed right across the center of town to the library, stashing the berries in his lunch pail so as to surprise his wife more effectively. It did occur to him that Marian would probably find it rather inconvenient to be burdened with a carton of blueberries while at work, and that it might have been better for him to just bring them home. He reasoned that he could always stop by the house to store the carton in the icebox _after_ they ate lunch, however – now that he was on his way to the library, he was too intent on seeing her as soon as possible, as well as finding out why she'd asked him to do this!

"Morning, Professor Hill!" chirped a bright-eyed Zaneeta Shinn as she descended the steps of the Madison Public Library, her presence a surefire sign that Marian had either closed the library for lunch already, or was about to. Zaneeta had not been devoting as many hours to her part-time position at the library ever since Marian had hired Miss Farrow as her dedicated assistant in January; however, Zaneeta still greatly enjoyed the opportunity to make herself useful and to work alongside the woman whom she'd grown to admire, and once the summer had arrived again she had resumed working there almost every day.

A knowing, merry twinkle illuminated the girl's bright-blue eyes. "On your way to see Miss Marian?"

"I am, indeed." Of course, Zaneeta must have been aware that her motivations were just as transparent, and Harold flashed her a knowing grin in return. "And would I be correct in my suspicions that _you're_ on your way to the Emporium to see Tommy?"

Zaneeta let out a peal of bell-like laughter, her flaxen ringlets bouncing around her shoulders. "You would be," she conceded with a blushing nod just before passing by him and strolling off along the very same sidewalk where she'd first walked with Tommy after Harold had picked her out of a crowd to be the young man's sweetheart last July. It was extraordinary how a matter of random chance had worked out so perfectly for the two teenagers, he reflected – but then, it went even further than that.

The sheer improbability that he'd decided to get off the train _here_ , or that he'd even ended up on a train that had brought him to River City in the first place, of all the small towns in America he could have decided to fleece... he'd thought about it a million times since the night he'd first realized that he was in love with Marian, but it never failed to amaze him how every shameful decision he'd made in his life had been inexorably leading him straight to her. That so many others in River City had found happiness and meaning due to his actions just seemed to provide more evidence that he'd always been meant to be here, and everything had unfolded exactly as some higher power must have planned it.

He was so distracted by that thought that he realized he was wearing a foolish smile only when he met eyes with Miss Anna Farrow as she emerged from the library right as he reached for the door and observed that she was regarding him with obvious amusement. Ginger-haired and elfin-featured, Miss Farrow was about as much older than Zaneeta as she was younger than Marian, but unlike just about any other young woman in River City, she had never once been the least bit flustered by Professor Hill, even when his countenance was at its most radiant. It made it easy for Harold to see his wife's assistant as a member of their extended family, maybe some sort of long-lost cousin or niece.

That being said, Harold _had_ seen Miss Farrow reduced to blushing jitters several times, and, though neither he nor Marian would have ordinarily engaged in anything resembling gossip, they had realized in casual conversation one day that neither one of them had the slightest idea who the object of Miss Farrow's affection might be. Not that it was any of their business, but Harold still found it odd even Marian, who spent all day with her assistant and was usually so observant and perceptive, could not link Miss Farrow's starry-eyed looks to any particular young man.

At any rate, Miss Farrow could certainly see right through Harold. "You haven't missed her – she's still right at her desk," she assured him with an affable smile before he'd said a single word, already past him by the time he managed to even thank her.

As far as Harold could tell, all of the library patrons had already departed, and only Marian remained at the front desk jotting down a last couple entries in her ledger. Any possibility of truly surprising her with his arrival had been foiled by his audible encounter with Miss Farrow at the door, but the librarian still beamed brilliantly the moment that she looked up and set eyes on him.

"I didn't think you were coming by today," she exclaimed.

After a quick look around to ensure that there truly were no straggling patrons remaining inside, Harold wrapped an arm around her slim waist and pulled her close, planting a warm kiss on her cheek. "I thought it could be nice for us to spend lunchtime together. It's not too hot today, after all."

"That is a lovely idea," Marian agreed, though he could already see the curiosity in her eyes as she sized him up, well aware as she'd always been of his underlying motives.

Harold leaned against her desk and watched his wife with immense fondness as she closed her ledger, gathered up her own lunch, and donned her straw hat adorned with lace and a kelly-green ribbon that matched her smart gown which made her look like a vision of Irish charm. She gave him an expectant smile when she'd finished, and, joining her in a few quick strides and enfolding her hand in his own, he escorted his little librarian out into the August sunshine.

While her behavior was perfectly proper as it always was in public, he thought he could see a bit of a girlish bounce in Marian's step as she bounded down the stairs and led him to one of the benches on the lawn. It gave Harold great joy to see how vibrant she was – she was just recently starting to emerge from the malaise of early pregnancy and regain her full vigor. After he'd spent so many lunchtimes coming to visit her just to make sure that she was feeling well enough to work all day, it was a tremendous weight off his shoulders to know that he could once again expect to see her as strong and healthy as she had ever been, despite all of the changes that were constantly occurring within her body. Though he was well aware that in the coming months, carrying their child was going to become an even more challenging task for her than it had been before, he thought it kind of Mother Nature to at least grant new mothers a bit of a respite in the middle months.

He was starting to understand why pregnant women were said to "glow," as well. Admittedly, it was hard to be certain of such a difference when Marian had always, always glowed in his eyes, but there _did_ seem to be a special aura about her that was entirely new. Doubtless, a large part of her radiance was the sheer happiness she was feeling at the realization of the dreams of motherhood that she'd thought were lost forever until quite recently, but he thought he could perceive some extraordinarily luminous quality in her already-beautiful hair and skin these days, too.

The moment that they'd reached the bench and were seated side by side, Harold revealed the true reason for his visit by pulling out the small carton he had temporarily stashed in his lunch pail. "I brought you some blueberries," he announced triumphantly, pressing the carton into her hand with a satisfied grin.

Instead of looking pleased as he'd expected, however, Marian looked taken aback. She tilted her head, her features arranged into that sweetly puzzled frown of hers. "What – how did you know that I was craving blueberries?"

"Because you said so," Harold reminded her, suddenly fearing that he'd dreamed the whole thing after all. "It was in the middle of the night, and I'm not exactly sure _why_ , but you woke up and asked if we had any – "

"Oh, no, I did, didn't I?" Her hand flew to her cheek as color flooded into her face. "Harold, we were both more asleep than not – you didn't have to actually _do_ that – "

He'd been fully expecting such a response, and he simply shrugged it off. "Well, I supposed that a good husband ought to spare you the trip, make sure you had what you needed."

"But I don't _need_ them," the librarian protested, even as she eyed the berries with obvious yearning. "I just wanted them. It was a silly craving. You should pay me no mind when I tell you such things, really. It might happen often – these days."

Now Harold fully understood the situation at last – this must have been one of the cravings of pregnancy that many of the books he had consulted on the topic had led him to expect. He _had_ certainly noticed that Marian's appetite had returned in full force and maybe more of late, but she hadn't mentioned any longing for a specific food until now. The music professor suddenly felt incredibly foolish for failing to make the connection between her condition and her early-morning request.

"Well, no matter what the reason was, it was an easy wish to fulfill," he insisted, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer, even though they were outside, along Main Street, and in broad daylight – he was fairly certain that such a moderate display of affection would not be frowned upon with one's own wife. "And you should know that I'd never pass up an opportunity to make you happy."

"Oh, you spoil me far too much!" Marian teased, though her eyes were shining with warm affection. "How will you be with our – "

Just in time, she caught herself and trailed off, eyes wide with alarm. Right now, the amount of people in River City who knew about Marian's pregnancy could be counted on one hand, and they had all been sworn to secrecy for the time being until the Hills were ready to announce the news to their wider circles themselves. While there was no sign of anybody coming near enough to their bench to overhear their conversation, still, a secret spoken out loud in downtown River City was bound to find its way to interested ears somehow. Drawing on his considerable experience with creating diversions, Harold scrambled for something to say that would put Marian's statement in a much more mundane context.

"Our dinner? Well, I don't see why you'd worry about ruining our dinner now – it's still lunch time!"

Maybe the conclusion didn't make _perfect_ sense with the sentence she had started, but it would do. Husband and wife shared a conspiratorial smile, Marian looking visibly relieved.

"In that case, I suppose I'll go ahead and have some," she declared, finally claiming one of the blueberries for her own. As she placed it in her mouth, her eyes slid shut in happiness, and she made a little _mm_ sound that Harold felt right below his belt despite his very best intentions, putting him in mind of things that he really ought not to be thinking about at this hour of the day. Trying to clear his racing thoughts and ease the sudden tightness of his trousers, Harold averted his eyes for a moment, intently studying the flight of a passing bumblebee.

The press of her hand on his shoulder instantly brought his attention to her lovely face once more. "Spoiling me or not, I'm awfully happy you did this," she exclaimed, giving the carton in his hand a little pat. "Here, have some with me. I could hardly eat _all_ of these! Not that that was ever my intention – what I was specifically thinking about when I woke in the night, actually, was something like blueberry muffins or pancakes. Maybe I'll make something with these tomorrow morning."

Harold grinned. "We _could_ wait until tomorrow morning, _or_ we could just make pancakes tonight – "

"For dinner?" She spoke as though she found the idea preposterous, but she couldn't conceal the delight on her face.

"Well, there's no law against it, is there?"

"I should hope not. In fact, you're making me wish it were time to go home right now!" She popped another blueberry in her mouth, eyes glowing.

Her words were perfectly innocuous, but Marian knew by now how to imbue her remarks with veiled meaning, and the gleam in her eyes, the tilt of her head, the slightly-too-mischievous lilt in her voice all let him know that she wasn't only thinking about their unconventional dinner plans.

Harold could not imagine how his talk of pancakes had inspired such amorousness, and, as much as he knew his wife loved him and enjoyed their intimacy, as confident as he was in his own seductive charms, the music professor was more than a little surprised at this response – _pleasantly_ surprised, of course.

When she looked at him like that, Harold wanted very much to pull his lovely wife close to him and kiss her soundly, and there was such longing and invitation in her eyes that he knew she was wishing for the same thing. Of course, there was no possibility of doing so in clear view of Main Street – that would have to wait for tonight, as would everything else she had suddenly brought to the forefront of his mind. While there was plenty of time left in the lunch hour to spirit her away to the footbridge for a cozy little interlude, what was more important that she actually had time to eat, for the sake of her health as well as their baby's.

Trying not to let either of them get too swept away by desire in the middle of the workday, Harold gave her a wide smile but tried to steer the conversation firmly away from the topic of taking her home or what they would do that evening. "So, what made you ask me for those in the middle of the night, anyway? You were really thinking about blueberries so much that you couldn't sleep?"

Marian considered that for a second before answering. "I was simply struck with a persistent, nagging feeling that I could almost taste them already, but not _quite_. A sort of frustration… you understand, don't you?"

As she concluded, her lips turned up into an impish smile, her hand coming to rest over his with a small flutter of her fingers, and Harold could _very_ easily imagine that feeling – but in quite a different context. Clearly, that hadn't been a safe avenue of conversation after all! The sudden fire in her demeanor was catching him off-guard, though it certainly boded well for the fun they were going to have later tonight. For now, however, it was going to make the rest of the day excruciating.

"I may know what you're talking about," he remarked nonchalantly with a wicked gleam in his eyes that only she could see.

As she watched him take another blueberry from the carton, Marian's playful expression suddenly melted into one of concern. "Harold, dear, what you did was wonderful, but I want to be absolutely sure that you know it wasn't at all necessary. Today worked out well, but what if some other time the food that I can't stop thinking about is the steak from that restaurant we went to on our honeymoon, or – or something terribly out of season? Just because I mention a craving, you _mustn't_ take it as any sort of request or demand on you."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of it that way," he assured her, patting her hand. "I just saw an easy opportunity to make my wife happy, and I took it." He hesitated for the briefest of moments before venturing to add, "Not that I'm averse to considering a nice weekend for us in Des Moines sometime soon, if you really do want to revisit that restaurant – "

She protested again, but Harold saw her eyes light up and immediately tucked that idea away for safekeeping. They were going to be parents soon, after all, and it would likely be a long while before they would ever consider leaving their baby behind for an overnight romantic getaway, much less so far away from River City, so perhaps seizing the opportunity to do so during her pregnancy was simply the most logical thing to do. And surely, he could easily find a sensible business reason for such a trip that would prevent it from being pure extravagance. Then he remembered that they'd actually had a conversation on their honeymoon about wishing they could stroll through the city's parks in the summer, and with that, the music professor's plan was all but decided.

"Well, anyway, far be it for me to leave my wife craving anything all day at work, especially when – " Once again, Harold caught himself about to mention her condition and had to change his course – it was vaguely amusing to him that they were able to speak quite freely in innuendo without fear of detection, yet all references to the baby needed to be stifled promptly! "When your work is so important to River City," he concluded elegantly and truthfully.

"As long as you don't run yourself ragged over it, far be it for me to stop you, then," she conceded. Still caught up in the spirit of their previous suggestive exchange, Marian peered up at him from underneath the brim of her hat with a simmering look that made him want to pull her right off that bench and tumble in the grass with her, all pretense of decency be damned. His attempt at drawing in a deep breath to steady himself came out sounding a lot more like a gasp, and his little librarian looked immeasurably pleased at the effect she'd managed to have on him.

Thankfully, she once again defused the tension of the moment, pragmatically suggesting that they ought to get started on their lunch, and over a lunch filled with pleasant conversation, she did not again flirt with him so openly. Still, even after they'd eaten their fill and she'd had all the blueberries she desired for the time being, there was a distinct longing in her eyes that did not go away. His wife was an incredibly passionate woman, he knew that, but she seemed to be wearing her desire more plainly than he'd ever seen her during a work day. Harold wasn't even certain that she was aware of how intently she was gazing at him.

Despite his best efforts, Harold wondered if he'd left Marian craving something after all. At the very least, he knew what _he_ was left craving now. It was going to be a long afternoon.

xxx

The rest of the day at the Music Emporium was unremittingly dull. There was no band rehearsal today, nor did anybody arrive wishing to buy any of the things that were at all interesting to sell. Harold spent most of the day at his desk getting caught up with his ledgers and orders, and such prolonged, solitary and monotonous work made his head start to feel a bit foggy. He found himself watching the clock far too often, which, of course, only made the hours seem longer.

He felt especially frustrated because his mind was racing with the beginnings of a brand-new scheme, yet he had to get through this day's work before he could pursue his ideas in earnest. He'd long thought that the band was going to need better uniforms sooner rather than later, now that it was growing in both size and prestige. For one thing, he'd picked out the current uniforms with very little thought when he'd had absolutely no intention of there ever being a band in River City, and Harold was all too eager to distance his band and his business from _that_. And anyway, the uniforms were rather shoddy-looking, all things considered. They had been even when they were brand new, neither the red nor the white being particularly bold, the cut and fit a little imprecise. Sure, they were still dazzlingly impressive to the River City-ziens, but that wasn't saying much. As a bona fide bandleader, Harold now dreamed of building up a marching band that could eventually be acclaimed statewide or maybe even more widely, and that band ought to be clad in sharply tailored uniforms of bright, striking red, white, and gold.

He'd considered the change to new uniforms the first time he'd visited the grand music store in Des Moines to make an order last autumn, when the Emporium was just getting started, but at the time, he'd needed to prioritize things he _didn't_ already have. Now, he was definitely in a secure enough position to take a serious look at new uniforms, and he wanted to make plans to do so as soon as possible – both to have them in before the end-of-summer parade _and_ to have an excuse to spend a summer weekend in Des Moines with Marian. He would have much rather been working out the details of those exciting new plans than doing any of the mundane things that actually needed doing, and it became incredibly difficult to concentrate on anything else.

At the very least, it kept his mind off how hot she'd gotten him at lunchtime, but the thought of spending a weekend in a hotel room with her was distracting for quite the same reasons. He was actually grateful for the dull and solitary work if it gave him something, anything to take the edge off his desires.

When Tommy popped in to say farewell for the evening at a quarter to six, as there were no more customers in the store and had not been for quite a while, Harold nearly jumped up to follow his assistant's lead and head out immediately, but even after such a tedious day, the fully-reformed music professor felt too dishonest leaving behind unfinished work without at least seeing through his workday to the end. So, as much as it annoyed him, Harold allowed Tommy to turn the shop's door sign to "closed" but remained dutifully at his desk, trying to keep his attention focused on copying numbers from one place to another.

A few minutes after Tommy's departure, the bells on the front door jingled once again, and Harold perked up with interest – was it a customer? The sign on the door should have been visible enough to deter that. Had Tommy forgotten something, maybe? Or could it be Marian? He certainly _hoped_ that it was Marian.

Not in the mood to get up and investigate unless it proved truly necessary, he listened intently at the sound and direction of the footsteps, trying to figure out who was here and what their motivation was. He could have sworn that he was hearing the light, feminine footfalls of a woman, but instead of coming directly to his office, this visitor took their time, opening and closing the doors to several rooms. He couldn't imagine why Marian would have any reason to do that, so perhaps he had been wrong about the sound of the footsteps and it was Tommy after all; or maybe he had been right, and it was Zaneeta who'd come in to fetch something for Tommy. Either way, Harold was disappointed, and he grudgingly returned to his repetitive work for those last few minutes before six o'clock.

He'd found himself staring blankly at the page in front of him, feeling irritated at the way the heel of his palm had smudged many of the numbers, when all at once he heard the footsteps right outside his door, a soft knock on the door frame, and then the sweetest voice in all the world:

"Darling?"

Looking right up with a broad grin on his face, Harold set down his pencil and snapped the ledger set, instantly deciding that he was done for the day even though there were still five minutes remaining. It was the thought that all he did was for _her_ that kept him motivated to work every single minute that he said he would, anyway, so if Marian herself sought his attention, then he would gladly concede a little productivity without a moment's hesitation.

Though it hadn't been all that long since he'd seen her due to his lunchtime visit to the library, Harold's joy at this second unexpected encounter was not diminished in the least. Every time he laid eyes on his gorgeous wife, always so adoring and so adorable, he felt the same surge of incredulous awe and deep contentment, as if he had just realized that she was really his. Right now, Marian looked particularly charming because she was clearly trying to conceal a much bigger smile without all that much success, and she seemed to be blushing a little, too. Whatever had affected her so, he didn't want her to know that he detected any difference in her demeanor, lest he spoil a surprise of some sort, so he kept his tone even as he greeted her.

"Good evening, my dear. What brings you here?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," she answered coyly.

Harold watched her try to make it seem like closing and locking the office door behind her as she entered was a perfectly natural thing to do, but they both knew it wasn't. He looked up at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

Marian stood still for a moment, biting her lip and fidgeting with the straw hat dangling from her hands, and then took a few decisive steps toward him all at once. "Ever since you brought me the blueberries, I've been thinking about you," she admitted in a rush, blushing sweetly. "I just couldn't wait any longer to see you and – I didn't think you would mind if I came right here after work."

The music professor had to laugh at the absurdity of that idea. "Absolutely not."

Trailing her fingers lightly along the edge of the desk, she walked around it to join him. "You're certain? You're not too busy?"

"I was just about to pack up and head home," he was quick to assure her. "It's been a slow day here, anyway."

"Well, as long as I'm not interrupting you." Having confirmed that he was no longer planning on using the desk, Marian dropped her hat and purse onto it. Her familiar fragrance of rose-scented soap and summer air surrounded him as she leaned down to wrap her arms around him from behind, and her lips were so soft as she placed a warm kiss on his cheek that he couldn't help but sigh. Drawing back a little, the librarian studied his face with a hint of concern in her eyes. "You look tired, love. Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine. Dull day, like I said." Pulling one of her small hands from his chest up to his lips, Harold gently kissed it and then grinned up at her. "Never a dull moment in _your_ company, of course."

That remark earned him another sweet kiss and a laugh against his cheek. She stood up and took a few steps around his chair, hands still trailing across his chest – and then, to his complete and utter surprise, Marian climbed directly into his lap and kissed him right on the lips, softly but deeply, one hand clenching in the fabric of his shirt.

Harold's mind was racing with questions, but none of them seemed remotely as important as kissing his wife back. Her kisses were leisurely, not pushing for anything further, but the sheer indulgence of holding her in his lap in his office chair while she lavished him with affection so thoroughly was too delicious. She was softness and warmth, everything deeply comforting and yet thrilling at the same time. Marian flooded every one of his senses in the most pleasant way, and Harold was completely intoxicated by her.

When she finally pulled back to look at him, an enigmatic smile on her flushed face, the professor managed to shake off his daze long enough to wonder what on earth she was doing, and why.

"To what do I owe _that_ lovely surprise?" he inquired, smoothing a few stray curls from her forehead.

With a warm laugh, Marian cuddled closer to him. "Like I said, you were so sweet, running out to bring me blueberries for no reason like that. All I wanted was to – to kiss you right then, but I couldn't, of course." She rained kisses upon each of his cheeks as she spoke, stopping briefly to tickle him with her eyelashes, and giggling when he wriggled and laughed helplessly in response. "So then I just thought all day about you and – how very much I intended to kiss you at the earliest opportunity."

Harold grinned and cupped her cheek in his hand. "Well, if it merits _that_ kind of response, I'm _definitely_ going to make sure to fulfill every one of your cravings whenever they arise."

His wife arched an eyebrow at him. "Would you really – Professor?" She gave him a few more soft, lingering kisses, holding on to his lapels. "Maybe you can help me right now, then."

He almost made a fool of himself by asking _how_ , but he caught on very quickly when Marian covered his mouth with her own again. This time, her kisses grew more and more urgent. Sinking her hands into his hair, she brazenly coaxed his lips to part, exploring the contours of his mouth with her tongue in the way that he more commonly did to her. The more tightly she grabbed him to her, the tighter he held her in return, and soon he could feel her every luscious curve pressed against his body, even the slight maternal curve of her belly that was not yet visible through the layers of clothing dictated by society.

Still passingly aware of the fact that they were in his office, Harold was surprised when she tugged his bowtie loose and undid a few buttons on his shirt, but he did not see a need to stop her – such things could be easily fixed once they ended their embrace. And maybe he was rather shocked when Marian trailed her hand down lower and palmed him through the straining fabric of his trousers, a soft sound of arousal in her throat when he groaned helplessly at her touch, but he certainly wasn't going to _complain_ about this development, even though he worried that she was quickly going to work him into a state entirely unfit to walk home.

It was only a few moments later, when she boldly grabbed his belt buckle and set right to work unfastening it, that he realized that Marian really did have something much more than canoodling with him in mind. Immediately, his brain was caught up in a rush of rapidly colliding, conflicting thoughts.

He'd wanted her in this room for _ages_. During their courtship, the Emporium was the only place where they could be really, truly alone with a door that closed and locked. There had been such potential for a misstep here, small or enormous, that he'd set strict rules for himself to keep his behavior as close to the straight-and-narrow as he could manage to walk. A kiss on the hand, forehead, or cheek was the greatest liberty he would allow in a place that posed such danger. In the following months, he'd revised that to include her lips as long as the kiss was closed-mouthed and brief – a man could only restrain himself so much!

His office itself posed such extreme danger that he tried to work with her in _any_ other room whenever possible – it had a couch, for God's sake, a choice he had regretted for a while due to the reckless temptation it provided – and when they absolutely had to work in here, Harold always made sure that the door always remained open.

In those last few days leading up to their wedding, though, after Marian had plainly admitted how much she wanted him and they were both worked into a state of heady excitement over the imminent consummation of their love, he _had_ broken his rules and shut them behind his office door, a precious two or three times.

Each time, he had only allowed himself to surrender to temptation for a minute or two, just long enough that he could remind her of his desire and keep her own burning brightly without doing anything that would spoil the guiltless bliss of their wedding day and night. Still, he remembered each of those passionate interludes with intense fondness – the delirious amazement of a Marian who wanted him desperately, who knew and _embraced_ it, and was almost, _almost_ his.

It had always seemed like the two of them making love in his office would be inevitable, but they had not yet come close to doing any such thing even though they had been free to do so for many months. And now, here was Marian, offering his longtime fantasy to him for the taking – but Harold only had time for the briefest moment of excitement before he realized that he had to bring things to a halt before they went too far. His lovely librarian was so tantalizing, so irresistible, but he was still not certain if she'd truly be comfortable taking this tryst to its natural conclusion. Was she simply getting carried away in the moment, forgetting where they were? No matter how much he wanted to do this, he couldn't go through with something so outrageous until he had confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that she'd thought this through.

So, though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Harold placed a hand over hers to still any further exploration and broke their kiss, stopping her from immediately leaning back into him with two gentle fingers under her chin.

"Darling, darling, I think we're getting ahead of ourselves." He forced a laugh just to make sure she knew that he was not at all displeased with her actions, but his voice was too hoarse and quavering to make his levity convincing. "Why don't you let me take you home right now? You don't really want to make love _here_ …"

"But – I _do_." She was blushing fiercely, but her tone was firm and bold, and Harold thought he might have fallen over in shock if he hadn't been sitting down. "And I know _you_ do, because you told me so."

He'd expected to have to assuage her embarrassment when she realized the mistake she'd made, but apparently he was the one who'd been mistaken. It was all a lot to take in, and he could only gawk at her, dumbfounded. "I said that to you – out loud?"

She nodded, a little impatient with his momentary lapse in memory. "Back in the spring, that day when you fell in the lake – "

A renewed grin spread across his face. "Yeah, what a great day." When Marian laughed at his response, the music professor hastily added, "Well, _other_ than that particular part, of course."

"Yes, well, during the much _nicer_ part of the day, when we were in the bath together – "

Without even thinking about it, the music professor let out a low hum of approval at that and nuzzled her neck. For a brief moment, Marian's breath caught in her throat, but she seamlessly found her bearings and continued.

"That's when you told me that you've always wanted to make love to me in here."

"And you remembered that?" It was a pointless, foolish question, but she had shocked him so completely that his powers of deduction were presently eluding him.

His lovely wife regarded him with a coy smile. "You should know that I could never pass up an opportunity to make you happy," she said.

Harold adored both the sentiment and the clever way she'd saved up his words from earlier for this purpose, but they did not help to dispel the main concern that had led him to bring a stop to their embrace in the first place. "I know, and I love you for it, but I hope you wouldn't think I was making some kind of a request – see, that's why I try not to say these things. You never have to do anything – "

With a playful roll of her eyes and a finger on his lips, Marian seemed fully prepared to conquer these particular doubts. "Oh, hush. I know you're not that way, and I've told you time and time again that you don't always have to be so _noble_. For heaven's sake, I'm your wife – I don't need protection from you!"

Even though he still felt knocked off-balance, it was impossible to resist such blatant flirtatiousness. "Oh, I'm not so sure about that," he retorted, grinning. "I am an avowed scoundrel who wants to do all kinds of wicked things to you…"

"Yes, and that's exactly what I _don't_ want to be protected from." After giving him a few soft, teasing kisses, she pulled back to gaze down at him with a sweetly stubborn pout. "Surely you don't think you somehow coerced me into this when I'm the one coming to you?"

"No, no. It's just – " He paused, searching very carefully for the words to express his remaining doubts without patronizing her. "I'm worried that this might be driven by the same sort of impulse that made you ask me for blueberries in the middle of the night."

"And if it is?" To his relief, Marian seemed to be only mildly annoyed instead of offended by the comparison. "It's a perfectly natural thing to happen, apparently – I honestly thought my mother was just teasing me when she hinted that a pregnant woman could experience intense surges of _other_ appetites as well, but some of the books I've been reading have hinted at the same possibility. And I would have wanted you anyway. I always do! This is just – a feeling of wanting more, wanting _desperately_ , something that I would have wanted very much regardless. Carrying your child hasn't made me completely _addled_ , Harold."

She was pressed close enough against him that he could feel the swell of her stomach that was just beginning to grow, and he wondered if she'd gone out of her way to phrase it that way on purpose – "carrying your child" – because the words evoked a primal possessiveness and desire in him that made his blood run hot.

Placing her lips very close to his ear, Marian gave his earlobe a teasing nibble and then whispered, "I walked through every room twice, maybe three times, and made absolutely certain the door was locked before I even came to your office."

Harold smiled even as she sent a shiver through his body, the pieces finally starting to fall into place. "Ah, so that's what that was."

"Is that proof enough for you that I know exactly what I am doing? That I thought about it, that I planned carefully, all because I really do want this?" Her gaze was pointed and penetrating, conveying all of her considerable intelligence and maturity and _reason_ that had challenged and captivated him from the day they'd met, and Harold felt like a complete fool for ever assuming that Marian could have jumped into something like this without thinking extensively about it.

Perhaps because he figured it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to ensuring his wife's comfort and happiness, he always seemed to end up underestimating her at times like these, even when he really should have known better. After all – and it still stunned him to recall it – a few months ago, when their marriage had been even newer, Marian had been completely willing to make love at their picnic spot at the lakeside outside of town, and they very well might have done so if it hadn't been for all of the complications created by that tumble he'd taken into the water. In comparison to what she would have eagerly allowed that day, the impropriety of making love in his office after the Emporium was closed was hardly worth mentioning. His dear little librarian may have been innocent and the very picture of a lady from the ground up, but she was also every bit as passionate as he was, and such intense passion combined with her adept, open, and inquisitive mind made her an almost fearless lover far sooner than he had ever dreamed.

"I think I'm convinced," Harold affirmed, a bit humbled.

Marian, on the other hand, was looking more and more confident. "As a matter of fact, you know, I decided for certain that I would do this almost a month ago, when you came into the music room one evening and took me by surprise – "

He halted her with a teasing finger pointed at her nose. "Which time?"

The librarian giggled, clearly just as pleased and amused as he that the statement required clarification. "The time you – we – pretended that it was last year. Ever since then, I'd been actively wondering when I might find an opportunity to live out _this_ fantasy with you, because it had become a fantasy of mine, too, and I wanted it just as much. I'm not saying that I'm not shocked with myself for being this way, but – I just love how you've shown me that passion can be an adventure. And I love how I feel so safe with you, even doing something outrageously daring." She pressed a little closer to him, her expression turning soft and dreamy despite the ardor that blazed in her eyes. "That's how I feel right now."

Harold's heart ached with how much he loved her, almost physically so, and he cupped her face in his hand, tracing the line of her cheek with his thumb in utter reverence. "That's everything I want for you. You _are_ safe with me, Marian. You always will be."

"I know that things like this aren't what an ordinary married couple is supposed to do, but somehow, I just don't care about that kind of thing with you. I think we must be _extra_ ordinary, and I feel so terribly lucky that we're the way we are, that we have the kind of marriage that we do." Though she'd come from work not twenty minutes ago and was speaking so calmly to him now, Marian now looked as flushed and undone and ready for him as if he'd already undressed her and kissed every blessed inch of her skin, and she gazed at him with undisguised longing. "Please, I just – I want you, Harold."

The break in her voice was his final undoing, and Harold wrapped his arms tightly around his wife's waist and pulled her in close. Just before their lips met, however, Marian suddenly sat bolt upright again, eyes wide. The music professor had barely had a split second to worry when she reached back for the drawstring purse that she'd dropped on the desk, exclaiming, "Wait – I almost forgot something!"

With an inscrutable smile, Marian withdrew the little slipcase containing her spectacles, and then slid them on very deliberately as she turned back to Harold, instantly creating that delightfully prim look that thrilled him with its incongruity in moments like these.

"I mean, _Professor Hill_ – are you going to make love to me or not?"

There was a certain ring in her tone, the same proper librarian voice that she would have used if she'd been asking him to – well, _please make his selection and leave_. Despite her flushed cheeks and desire-darkened eyes, she somehow managed to master herself enough to seem professional, authoritative. It was absolutely delicious.

Harold knew exactly why she was toying with him in this way, of course. Marian remembered everything, he knew that very well now, and she clearly both remembered and relished the fact that her aloof librarian persona had played a role in his fantasies ever since they'd first met.

On a different occasion, he might have had a clever retort for her, but he was completely overwhelmed by the fact that she was really seducing him like this. Instead of making any attempt to answer her in words, Harold crushed his lips to hers, kissing her hard and deep and groaning helplessly into her mouth as she responded with equal passion. His fingers nimbly finding the buttons that he already knew to be concealed on the front of her kelly-green gown, the music professor tugged the top few open and then buried his face in her décolletage as soon as he could manage it, kissing and nibbling at her luscious ivory skin and eliciting the loveliest sighs from his wife.

He was aware that Marian had gotten a bit of a head start on his belt earlier, but she still had his trousers undone so quickly that he was actually startled when he felt her warm hand close around his aching erection, and she let out a low laugh at the way he gasped when she began stroking and caressing him.

Breaking into a devious grin the second he'd caught his breath, Harold promptly set out to level the playing field, slipping his hands beneath her skirts and inching them up to the bare skin above her stockings. He could sense the sheer heat of her arousal before he had even tugged her drawers open, and when his fingers finally touched her, she was so hot and wet already that he almost groaned just to feel it. As always, he was incredibly turned on to know that this was all for _him_ , such flagrant evidence of her desire and _readiness_ hidden underneath layers of clothing and prim, proper respectability.

"Were you wet like this from the moment you walked in my office, my darling?" he purred as he avidly explored her soft, slick folds. He _loved_ hearing her speak about such things; it still took a bit of prompting on his part, but not much.

Marian laughed, though it turned into more of a shuddering gasp as his finger circled a particularly sensitive area. "Maybe I was. But I suspect you were starting to get – like _this_ – " she tightened her grasp on him for a moment, making him groan and causing his hips to surge upward involuntarily " – from the moment I kissed you on the cheek, weren't you?" She looked half pleased with herself for making such a daring assertion, half self-conscious at venturing to make such an assertion.

Grinning, Harold hoped that his enthusiastic response would ensure her that he was nothing but charmed by her shameless retort. "No, I'd go earlier – I'd say it was when you walked in here."

Despite everything that they were currently doing and talking about, Marian's eyes widened in the most delectably innocent way, her expression both flattered and surprised. "Really? But I hadn't let on – "

"Marian, you should know by now that it doesn't really matter. Just thinking about you is enough for _that_ – do you really think I can handle you walking right in here looking as sweet as you do?"

Her delighted smile at that was quickly lost in a cry of passion as he intensified the movements of his hand, spread her open with his fingers and stroked her pointedly. He did wish she were naked so he could watch exactly what he was doing to her, but was still utterly thrilled by how and _where_ this was all unfolding. Marian panted and whimpered and seemed ready to melt into him, but just before he could slip a finger into her at last, she startled him by suddenly wriggling free of his embrace and then easily and gracefully sliding down to kneel before him, hands already sliding up his thighs and tugging his trousers and drawers open completely.

It didn't matter how many times she'd made love to him in the way she was now implying she intended to do – every single time he realized that _that_ was her intention, he ended up floored, speechless, barely able to breathe with sheer ecstatic excitement. Her gaze was impish and challenging, eyes gleaming, and his body was shouting at him that if this was what she wanted to do then _like hell_ was he refusing her... but still, he couldn't fathom why this would be her plan when she'd made it quite clear that she was desperate for _his_ touch, and had been for hours. He wasn't certain it would even be right for him to accept such attentions at this very moment. Before Marian did anything to render his powers of speech useless, Harold rushed to make her aware that he'd gladly reverse the situation for her.

He managed to rasp out a few words, his voice almost breaking although she wasn't even touching him yet. "Wait, I thought you – "

That glint in her eyes grew even more mischievous as she swiftly interrupted him. "Yes, but wasn't this a very specific part of the fantasy that you told me?"

It was, of _course_ – God, how many times had he sat here doing paperwork while idly imagining the thrill of having Marian slip beneath his desk? Imagining how even in the middle of the workday – maybe at lunchtime – she could have hidden there and pleasured him and nobody passing by the office would have known a thing. Such outrageous danger was beyond what even _he_ could seriously consider pursuing, but the time of day wasn't so important to the ultimate realization of the fantasy. And of course, his clever wife had remembered every detail, wanted to give him exactly what he'd dreamed of just as badly as she wanted the same from him. It had been only a few minutes ago that she had assured him that she was fully in control of her own desires and decisions, that she did not need to be protected from her own actions, and he had already allowed himself to fall into that same pattern of overzealous chivalry again. He sternly reminded himself to give her more credit, at least, as sternly as he could in his current state of mind.

As the moments passed and he sat frozen without answering her, Marian was plainly enjoying the opportunity to test his resolve. After teasing him with the play of her hands for a minute or so, she tried a brand-new tactic, stroking his erection gently against the soft swell of her breasts just above her corset, and Harold let out a strangled gasp – where in God's name his innocent wife had gotten an idea like that, the music professor could not begin to guess, because he was confident he'd never suggested anything remotely close to it, but it was a torturously erotic gesture that made him even harder than he already was, agonizingly so. He found himself wishing desperately that she weren't still wearing her corset, driven half mad at the thought of what it might be like, what she might _do_ if that were the case.

As she watched and surely _felt_ his responses, Marian's beautiful face lit up with an expression that was about as near as he'd ever seen her to gloating.

"I meant it when I said that your fantasy is mine, too. I thought about _all_ of it, today," she confessed. "This part, too."

Her lips were so close that he could feel her warm breath tickling him and even the vibrations of her voice as she spoke, sending shivers of lust all the way up his spine. If this was really what she wanted to do first – and it was so generous and _sweet_ of her, that this was _ever_ what she wanted, never mind right now – he no longer possessed any will to resist. Too overcome for words, Harold finally answered her previous question with an emphatic nod and sank back into his chair, shuddering and gasping a moment later at the feel of her mouth silken-wet and soft around him.

Marian always, always watched his face as she made love to him like this, and he always watched her right back in breathless wonder – right now, she looked even more assured in her lustful triumph than usual, and she took obvious pride in having the nerve to do something so utterly wicked with him in his office. She already knew exactly what he liked in a way that no other woman ever had or would. The pleasure she could give him this way was practically unbearable, and it was only increased by the knowledge that every blissful sensation he was feeling was the result of absolutely deliberate and extremely intimate action on her part.

Harold was barely conscious of what words were falling from his lips. He'd long feared that one day he was going to blurt out a curse too obscene for Marian to excuse, despite the fact that she was willing to let milder oaths slide during moments like these. (The idea of her being _accepting_ of such an outburst, or someday even trying out such a shocking obscenity for _herself_ , was laughably outrageous in its sheer impossibility, but he admittedly fantasized about it nonetheless, though he remained determined not to slip up in that way if he could help it.) At any rate, he hoped that the intense love and affection he was trying to express came across in his words, although what he could manage to string together was little more than a series of heated but disconnected endearments between gasps and moans.

He had to physically restrain himself from sinking his hands in her upswept hair and ruining her exquisite chignon – she had a hat to wear, of course, and they were certainly heading right home after they left the Emporium, but he would not risk bringing the slightest suspicion of any untoward conduct upon his wife. Anyway, as soft as it looked, he was well aware that burying his fingers in her chignon would only lead to hairpins jabbing into his hands. So he moved his hands lower instead, gently stroking her face and neck.

It was almost too much for him, the sight and sounds of it all and _here_ : her lovely hazel eyes constantly finding his own and glimmering with both affection and playfulness, a few escaped golden curls just barely tickling his thighs, her clever, well-practiced mouth, and her slim, pretty pianist's hands that touched and stroked and squeezed in all the places where he wanted them. Unable to bury his hands in her hair when she did something so perfectly wonderful with her tongue that his back arched and muscles tightened, Harold instead reached out and clenched at the edge of his desk with one hand, certain that he'd have seen his knuckles turning white if he'd been mad enough to tear his gaze away from what she was doing to him.

In his fantasy she usually finished him just like this, of course, but despite her enthusiasm for enacting exactly the seduction that he had been dreaming of, Marian had come to his office today practically begging _him_ for release, and he was planning on satisfying her as completely as she deserved, as soon as possible. She hadn't quite brought him to the brink of climax yet, but Harold was quickly losing control, and he was aware that if he planned on making love to Marian properly right now, he had better stop her very soon.

Drawing in a gasping breath to clear his senses, Harold summoned the willpower to reach down and gently push back on her shoulders to stop her, a gesture he was hoping that she knew well enough by now not to be offended by it. Indeed, a hint of vexation at this interruption of her performance flickered across his wife's face for a brief moment, but as he pulled her back up into his lap with a gasp of her name, she cooperated eagerly, leaning in and kissing him so fervently that there was no telling who was leading and who was following anymore.

As charming as she looked in them, Harold took a moment to slip her spectacles off and drop them on the desk, not wanting to either bump them or fog them up as their embrace grew more and more heated. Marian regarded him with amusement, and he knew she must have been wondering why he'd so quickly undone what she'd gone to the trouble of doing just for him.

"You're wearing too much already," he explained, hoping that he was successfully communicating his fevered thought process to some degree. "I don't want anything else getting in our way."

To demonstrate, he pulled her tightly against him, kissing her hard and deep in a way he was certain would have knocked her glasses right off if she'd still been wearing them. She giggled between kisses, and Harold reveled in the intimacy of it, these sweet, silly moments in the midst of lovemaking that he had never even dreamed were possible or desirable before this wonderful woman had walked into his life and turned it upside down. Intent on eliciting more of her charming laughter, he slowed down and nipped and nibbled at her perfect lips, then moved onto her neck, and her laughter quickly mixed with gasping moans.

In an abstract sense, if he didn't dwell on the specifics of how and why it had come to be that way, Harold was quite proud of and grateful for his vast knowledge of the female body and the fastenings of women's clothing, as well as his immense repertoire of tricks both essential and tangential to lovemaking. As Marian had repeatedly had to remind him, there was no changing the past – and if he'd been honorable, the events that led them to meet and fall in love would never have occurred, anyway. The simple fact was, he possessed the know-how and the skill to give her pleasure beyond her wildest imaginings in as many different ways as there were, and there was no woman in the world who deserved it more.

Right now, for instance, Harold couldn't have been more pleased that he knew exactly how to loosen her corset enough to free her breasts while still ensuring that the process of redressing after their tryst would be swift and simple. And the way she reacted just at the first brush of his thumb across her tightened nipple, the way she arched into his hands and let out an unabashed, throaty moan, would have been worth it in itself.

He always had to stop and stare for a moment whenever any of his wife's intimate areas were bared to him, struck with awe both at her sheer perfection and her willingness to share herself with him. Her breasts numbered among his favorite sights in the world, along with her face and every other part of her, of course. Harold had memorized every inch of them several days into their honeymoon – the cream-and-rose-petal hues of her skin, their softness and warmth and the way they fit into his hands – but they had already grown fuller over the four months of her pregnancy, and the music professor found this both fascinating and absolutely delightful. He knew it was natural that she would be self-conscious sometimes about the temporary alteration of her sleek figure that was an inevitable part of childbearing, but he hoped he would never fail to remind her the sheer adoration he felt for her changing shape, both for what it represented _and_ how truly lovely it was.

After he'd brought her to the point of gasping just from tracing and cupping her soft curves with his hands, he finally succumbed to the urge to lower his head and fully savor his wife's utterly delectable breasts. He listened with immense satisfaction as she cried his name and moaned with each fervent motion of his lips and tongue, writhing furiously on his lap and stirring his passion further. Her reactions were irresistible. Marian had always been marvelously sensitive, but pregnancy seemed to have made erotic sensation even more intense for her, yet another reason for him to adore her maternal condition.

Teasing Marian and drawing out their prelude until she was practically begging him for more was one of Harold's very favorite pastimes, but she had already been desperate when all they had done was kiss, and the pleading in her eyes as he looked up at her now indicated that she was reaching her limit. He'd hoped that he could bury his head in her lap for a while before they moved on to making love in the more traditional sense, especially considering the attentions she'd just bestowed so generously upon him, but the frantic motions of her hips against his indicated that she was urgently seeking a more complete union. Making a mental note to _thoroughly_ reciprocate her gesture at home that evening, he considered what course of action would be best for their first tryst in such a scandalous location.

As much as Harold would have loved to lay his wife out on his desk – even bend her over it, if he ever thought she'd be amenable to something so wild, and he reflected that perhaps that day would come sooner than he'd once thought – he had to keep her pregnancy in mind, even though she was still slender and limber as ever at this point. Besides, it was extraordinary enough that she wanted to make love here at all, and despite all the reassurance she'd given him, the music professor was resolved not to do anything that would further push the limits of her modesty while they were here. Perhaps it would have been safest to bring her over to the couch and make love to her there, but as Marian moved to hike up her skirts and arranging them to drape over his lap just so, he realized that she was fully willing and ready to make love right in his chair, and he certainly wasn't going to pass up that opportunity.

What he really wanted was to get her completely naked, but seeing as she was _clearly_ not going to allow him the time to do so carefully, he didn't want to dishevel her too much in the process. As a compromise, Harold decided to remove her drawers instead of just tugging the split seam open; at least that way, he could thoroughly enjoy caressing her naked thighs and bottom as they made love, and with her breasts already bared to him, she would be more naked than not. Considering that Marian was sitting directly on his lap, it took a few moments of clumsy fumbling to get her drawers off and position her astride him just so, but the moment it was possible she brought him directly to her entrance, holding him there for a single breathless moment before she slid right down onto him, trembling and moaning with what seemed to be sheer relief – an amplified echo of the happy sound she had made in response to the blueberries, he managed to think through the daze of luxurious sensation.

He'd intended to tease her at first, to go slow and draw out every moment of her pleasure until she was near to weeping from it, but Marian was so hot for him that she gave him no such opportunity. He had barely had a moment to hold still, look into her eyes, and revel in the incredible wonder of being inside of her – a reality that _still_ seemed too beautiful to be true, every, every time – before his darling wife broke their spellbound gaze and commenced making love to him with frenzied desperation. All Harold could do was watch in awe and try to keep up with her as she undulated atop him, her head tilting back with her cries of joy and her hands tangling in his hair.

She looked glorious and _felt_ glorious, and the fact that this was happening in his office made the whole thing seem like an ecstatic dream. His only concern was how he could possibly manage to last if this was the pace she insisted on. After all, she'd already worked him up considerably before she'd even climbed into his lap, and he'd gotten no equivalent opportunity with her. He needed to give her something more.

But she was so incredibly sensitive and so very delectable that it took no extraordinary effort on his part to bring her just as much enjoyment as he was experiencing. One of the things he enjoyed most about holding her in his lap as they made love was how easily he could caress her breasts with his mouth, and today he did so with intense enthusiasm, and the deep groans she drew from him with every motion of her hips only served to increase the pleasure he was giving her. When he managed to slip a hand under her skirts and up between her trembling thighs to stroke her, Marian let out a sharp cry, rolling her hips against his hand with a ferocity that startled him.

Soon, Harold was overjoyed to feel her clench around him in that familiar way, shuddering and crying out wordlessly and arching her back with abandon. It was almost too much to bear, the sensation and the vision she provided and the sounds she made, but he drew in deep, measured breaths as he watched her and resisted the urge to let himself go with her just yet, not wanting this to be over too quickly.

When she opened her eyes, Marian was smiling beautifully, but there was already something wavering in her gaze, eyelashes fluttering, and her hips continued to move against his. She seemed relieved when she realized that he had not finished along with her. Leaning her forehead against his, she let out a breathy, quivering sigh. " _Please_."

Harold was grateful for his previous endurance – his wife needed more, and he was determined to make love to her until whatever craving had driven her to his office was utterly and completely satisfied. When he thought both of them could handle it, he gave another thrust of his hips, and he was rewarded just as he'd hoped he would be, with her eyes sliding shut and mouth falling open on a soft moan that indicated that her pleasure was already building again.

It was even easier than usual for him to coax her along to a second release, and this time her response was more complete as she twisted above him, letting out a long, sustained wail. But she showed no sign of the momentary exhaustion or at least oversensitivity that usually followed climax, and she still did not stop moving against him, his name falling from her lips in panting sighs as she alternated between kissing him over and over and letting her head fall back in pleasure. This time, he was more prepared for this response. He'd always been able to bring her release with wonderful ease and frequency, and that she was so _insistent_ on it today was one of the most wildly erotic things he had ever seen. Yet even as she unabashedly asked for and took her own pleasure, Marian was not, could not have been the least bit selfish about her lovemaking. As they moved so intimately together, she showered him with warm affection, gazed at him with the sweetest adoration, and, what's more, she was very consciously bringing him as much pleasure as she knew how with her every motion. Her passion and love were irrevocably intertwined, and loving her had made him the exact same way, his heart aching and rejoicing and singing for her just as his body was.

Harold was losing count of how many times he had brought his wife to ecstasy, unsure if it was even quantifiable anymore or if she was somehow caught up in a single sustained whirlwind of euphoria, when he felt his own climax begin to build too intensely to resist. He held back desperately – he _needed_ her satisfied, and though he certainly had other methods of doing that, he had a strong suspicion that she wanted it just like this – but he managed to persevere, even as he was helplessly gasping her name aloud, sweat beading on his forehead. Then, at long last, after arching above him with one final, exuberant shout, his lovely little librarian collapsed into his arms with a sweet sigh, burying her head against his neck and pressing fervent kisses there. Unable to hold back for one more instant now that he no longer needed to, Harold finally allowed himself to tip over the edge with her, thrusting into her with frenzied, erratic movements as he was overwhelmed by a release made even more powerful by how long he'd delayed it. He was so senseless with pleasure that he was unaware of how loudly he'd cried out until he felt the brief, residual ache in his throat, the only sensation he was currently aware of that wasn't brought about by her body on his.

Slumping back in the chair in blissful exhaustion, he felt his pulse thundering in his veins as it slowly returned to a normal pace, and as he gently stroked her neck, he could feel hers, too, as well as the rise and fall of her chest. She had _needed_ this, for whatever reason – Harold loved that thought. In seven months as his wife, Marian had blossomed into a woman who thrived on passion and pleasure just as he did, and he felt incredibly proud and honored to be the one to share that immeasurable intimacy with her.

In theory, he would have been happy to lay with her like this indefinitely, but as his higher faculties returned to him, he became conscious that they were both almost fully clothed, tangled up together on a chair with no room at all to relax, and, no matter how nice the weather had been, it _was_ still August, and they had just exerted themselves quite vigorously. As soon as he had gathered up the energy to do so, Harold pulled his wife back into a sitting position, figuring that it was as much for her benefit as his that they put a little space between them to prevent getting too overheated.

Still a little worried that she would be embarrassed or ashamed by what they'd just done now that , he searched his wife's face desperately, and was relieved to see no trace of apprehension in her expression. On the contrary, in fact, Marian seemed to radiate that same aura of gleeful naughtiness that she always exuded whenever she'd managed to do something bolder than she'd once thought possible.

She was so lovely and so happy that Harold couldn't resist pulling her in for one more tender kiss, and when their lips parted, the librarian let out another sweet, almost inaudible sigh.

"Satisfied?" he asked archly, feeling deservedly smug at how much of an understatement that clearly was.

He wasn't sure if it were possible for her to blush when her face was already so pink from exertion, but the way that Marian pressed her upturned lips together and cast her eyes down for a brief moment conveyed the same charming effect. "Very."

"Good. I did promise that I was going to do my very best to help you alleviate your cravings, and if you ever – I mean, _ever_ – start feeling this particular craving again, well, you just come right to me. Any time. Any place. I'll drop everything – "

"Harold!" Marian admonished with a giggle, giving his shoulder a lighthearted little swat right before kissing the tip of his nose and then nuzzling against it with her own.

"I mean it, you know." Though he'd merely been teasing her, the music professor abruptly felt himself overflowing with earnest sentiments that he wanted her to hear, and he pressed onward. "You know what drives me absolutely wild, more than anything? You wanting me so badly, and telling me so – going after what you want. I adore it."

"It _is_ getting less embarrassing," she said with a shy smile, her fingers toying with one dangling end of his bowtie. "As you can certainly tell after today, I'm sure!"

"Don't think you ever have to hold anything back. You wanting and needing me to make love to you is exactly what I dream about." Despite himself, Harold couldn't seem to stop saying aloud every thought that came into his head. "I'm so proud of you," he blurted out, and then winced at the way it sounded. "Is – is it wrong of me to say that? I don't want to be condescending – "

"No, it's perfectly fine," his wife reassured him, sweeping a few disheveled curls off his forehead with great affection. "I _like_ hearing that, truly."

"You do?"

"Oh, yes. Even if it doesn't seem like it to you, I doubt myself in situations like this every single time. Every time I muster up the courage to behave boldly, even if I know that it's what you want, too, I just can't help but remember everything I've ever read or heard that's taught me that most men wouldn't want that in a wife. And I _know_ you're not like most men, not at all, but it makes me so happy to hear you say it – that you like the way I am with you."

He let out a hoarse laugh. "I like it _so_ very much that I almost feel it's redundant to say it aloud, but I'll make sure I always do." He placed a light, playful kiss on the tip of her nose. "I love you so much, you know."

"I do," she responded saucily, laughing when he affected an expression of mock affront at her lack of reciprocation. After kissing his nose in return, she assured him, "And I love you just as much."

Given that they had not actually removed much clothing at all, it was fairly easy for them to make themselves presentable enough for the walk home. Some buttoning, buckling, tying, and lacing was all that was needed, and the only garment that needed to be retrieved was Marian's drawers, which had somehow landed atop a stack of instruction books when Harold had carelessly tossed them away. He found it quite charming to watch her walk across the room on still-trembling legs, her cheeks pink and stray curls dangling around her face, and pick them up with the same sort of matter-of-fact primness as if she were only doing laundry at home. She caught him watching her, and he felt a little sheepish for a moment, but she tossed a glimmering smile his way that let him know she didn't mind in the least.

Looking around the room, the music professor was struck with the thought that they had forever changed it, although it looked exactly the same; he now worked in an office that had echoed with his beautiful wife's passionate cries and wails as she'd moved atop him, and nobody but the two of them would ever know a thing about it. It was a wonderful secret, if a potentially very _distracting_ one.

He took a couple of quick strides until he was by Marian's side again, letting his arms slip around her half-dressed form just as she'd finished pulling her drawers back on. "You know, you've only made it more difficult for me to sit in my office and get any work done now that I have such delicious memories of what we did in that very chair."

"I'm terribly sorry," she replied, giggling. "Should we refrain from sullying your workplace with our passion in the future?"

"The opposite, actually," Harold declared, waggling his eyebrows at her. "Marian, today was a dream come true. But…" He leaned down and placed his lips close to her ear, feeling that she was ready to at least have another naughty thought planted in her mind, one more thing for her to think about and anticipate, as if he hadn't already given her enough tantalizing little hints about what he planned to experience with her eventually. "Next time," he murmured, a hint of a growl in his velvety voice, "I want you on the desk."

Only a few months ago, the librarian would have averted her gaze even as she blushed pleasantly to hear such a thing from him. She was certainly still blushing now, but Marian looked him right in the eyes as she bit her lip with unabashed excitement, looking as hungry as when they'd been talking about blueberry pancakes. "Really? I can scarcely wait for _next time_ , then."

The temptation to sweep right back into his arms and make those fantasies come true _right now_ was powerful, and it was only because he was so determined to get them home in a timely fashion that he tore himself away from her and focused on retying his bowtie instead. While being so delightfully improper in a forbidden location had its own appeal, the Emporium certainly lacked the exquisite comforts of home. Making love while still half-dressed was its own kind of exhilarating fun, but it only made a man crave a more thorough tryst. Now he wanted to lay Marian out completely naked and trace every inch of her body with his hands and mouth, and to lay languidly with her in his arms afterward instead of being entangled in a cramped chair. So he gave her a roguish wink but did not prolong their flirting, lest they find themselves getting too carried away all over again.

They finished dressing within another minute or so, and Marian had barely even finished refastening the last button of her blouse before she tugged uncomfortably at her collar, sliding her other hand up across her flushed face. "Oh, it's so hot!"

Though he could have said the same thing himself, Harold couldn't resist teasing her. "Really? Well, it wasn't so bad out today, and the sun's halfway down now. I can't imagine why you'd be feeling that way."

Marian laughed, running her hands down his lapels to smooth them. "Honestly, Harold!"

He grinned shamelessly, loving how comfortable and at ease she was even after they'd been so daring together. "A stroll outside should be enough to get our temperatures back to normal, I'd think. I'm sure you're more than ready to go home now, where we can make our blueberry pancakes and make love _without_ our clothes on." Realizing that he might be presuming a little too much, Harold quickly qualified that statement – they had _just_ made love, after all, to her quite thorough satisfaction, and no matter how heated her gaze, no matter how insatiable they had always tended to be as a couple, he didn't want to push his admittedly voracious desires onto her. "That is, if that's what you want."

"That does sound wonderful," she agreed. Wrapping her arms around his waist, the librarian pressed her chin to his chest and looked up at him with dreamy adoration. "I daresay I won't be waking you up in the middle of the night after an evening like that!"

He couldn't keep himself from beaming. _Waking him up_ – now there was a fantasy he ought to let her in on. "Well, like I said. If you want to – any time, any place."

This time, instead of making a grand show of modesty, she lit up even more vibrantly, mischief dancing in her eyes. "I'll keep that offer in mind, Professor," she told him, her voice low and sultry.

 _Dinner first_ , he reminded himself amidst a resurgence of carnal urges, never wanting to do anything to keep his pregnant wife from eating for too long – but that didn't change the fact that he was feeling ready to grab her hand and sprint home with her, not caring who saw them.

After taking a few more moments to wash up and make sure they had not forgotten anything, Harold and Marian finally locked up the Emporium and departed down the sidewalk. He wrapped an arm around her small waist and watched her face as they walked, happy to see how relaxed and unashamed she was in the aftermath of their recent activities. She really was something else.

For the first time in a while, Harold remembered the plan he'd been hatching all day, and, though he'd made no formal arrangements, he was already bursting to tell Marian about it. Considering how soon he intended for them to take their trip, it probably wouldn't have been fair to arrange it without her knowledge, anyway. "Now, I wanted to ask you – what do you think about getting the band a new style of uniform?" He tried to keep his tone nonchalant, as if he really were merely talking about the band. "The ones we have now are a bit drab, and I think it's better to make the change before we get _too_ many members who will have to replace theirs."

"I think that's an excellent idea." The slight arch of her eyebrows that accompanied that statement indicated that Marian knew very well that he was up to something, and, while he thoroughly enjoyed being bested by his quick-witted wife, Harold pressed on quickly, wanting the satisfaction of surprising her at least a little bit when he made his plans known.

"Good. Because I was thinking I might put in an order to Ellsbury's in Des Moines, but I'd like to see all of their options in person before I choose..."


End file.
